


Time Spent in Vain

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Shattered [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Magic, Gen, Mind Manipulation, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fools held on to painful memories, fools allowed these memories to get the best of them. </p><p>A perfect tool to use to protect his soul. </p><p>Everything was going so well. </p><p>He opened the book with an evil smile playing on his thin lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Spent in Vain

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

Tom was unable to make himself _Obliviate_ Calliope. That night, he curled into bed and stared blankly at the wall. The next morning, Calliope behaved as if nothing had occurred. She treated Tom as she normally did. She never once said anything about what had happened, nor could Tom tell if it bothered her. She hid behind a polite, indifferent mask. After watching her for three days, he approached her, informing her it was high time they return to training. It was a test to see if she actually accepted or not.

Atlanta Black would never except. 

Calliope Wren Riddle would readily accept. 

“Really, Tee?” she asked, her large amber eyes round with excitement. Her polite, indifferent mask fell completely. 

“Yes. I’ve found some spells I feel would benefit you,” Tom replied smoothly. “In the future, do not go into my trunk.”

That was as much as an apology Calliope would ever receive for the events over Christmas break. 

* * *

Tom was having trouble converting Calliope’s voice power into anything worth while. So far he’d only witnessed the strange power when she sung (or screamed). He’d never managed to witness it come out when she cast a spell. He had figured correctly she was a natural when it came to Dark magic, but he wasn’t sure if it stemmed from her voice power or the fact her magic was keyed into Dark. At the moment, they were standing in the training room he’d asked the Room of Requirements to give him. Calliope was panting, hands on her thighs and dark raven hair wet with sweat. 

“That was some spell,” she panted. 

“Stand up straight,” Tom snapped.

Calliope stood up straight, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looked exhausted. He frowned. Shifting his vision, he checked her magic. It was still at full power, so why was she so tired?

“You are clearly not doing the spell correctly,” he informed her. “Your magic is at full and you are tried.”

“I noticed,” she muttered. 

She rolled her shoulders and loosened her neck. She looks away from Tom and back at the dummy the room provided her to practice her curses on. Rolling up her sleeves, she aimed her wand at the dummy and shouted, “ _Osdolor.”_

There was something different this time she cast it. She didn’t simple shout in a spoken tone as she’d been doing. No, there was a musical quality to her voice as she cast it. The magic behind the curse was so great, the dummy’s head didn’t simply snap off, it flew off, shattering into pieces on the stone wall over Tom’s head. 

He slowly stood up, having ducked when the head came flying at him, and found Calliope looking shaken. 

That wasn’t right. 

“Be proud. You did it correctly. The cures is supposed to harm your enemy,” Tom reminded her. 

There was a part of Calliope that did not care to cause pain in others. This disgusted Tom. 

“Again, but aim at the chest. The chest is where the cures ought to be aimed. Breaking ribs will hinder your enemy quickly as breaking a leg,” Tom informed her. 

“Only with more internal damage maybe,” Calliope muttered. 

He dared her with his eyes to defy him. He felt her magic well up, but it died quickly. 

She shot the curse again, sending the dummy right at him. He swiftly moved out of the way. The dummy smashed into a million pieces next to him. 

* * *

Tom slowly took a book off the shelf and stared at the cover. He had shied away from procuring such dark books since Calliope had gone through his things, but he felt she had learned her lesson and would never open his trunk again. He needed to further his research on horcruxes. Slughorn had given Tom the final information he was unable to find in a book: how one made one.

While Slughorn had been horrified with the whole conversation, nothing horrified the man more than Tom suggestion _seven_ would be best. That, Slughorn did not know the answer to. Tom was afraid no one would know the answer to that one question, as no one had ever made more than one horcrux. 

There was no actual spell in any of the books Tom had found in the Hogworts library to make a horcrux. Slughorn said one must commit murder. Through murder, your soul split to the point you could put it into an object. 

By that logic, Tom ought to be able to make three horcruxes at the moment. 

Flipping through the book in his hands currently, Tom realized that he’d be unable to make one from past murders. No, during the murder, one had to actively spilt the soul. 

Interesting. 

Tom idly flipped the pages in the book, but there was no more information. Sighing he debated if he wanted the book or not. It only said how to make them: through murder. Slughorn knew that already. 

Tom placed the book on the shelf. 

“Tom?”

Tom turned to find Orion Black standing behind him, looking somewhat befuddled. It was not a look the handsome fourteen-year-old often wore and it looked comical on his carefully crafted face. 

“Yes, Orion?”

“My cousin Walburga informed me you requested this book from the Black Family library,” Orion said, extending a book. “It was in my families library, not hers.”

Tom kept his features schooled as he took in the title of the tiny, black, ancient book. Reaching out his hand, he closed his long fingers around the book and took it from Orion. 

“My father does not know I’ve lent this to you. He will notice it is missing in about three weeks,” Orion said, a serious tone to his voice. 

“Really?”

Orion nodded. “After three weeks missing, a curse will enact and he will know. As will you. I do not know which curse. They are all cursed differently.”

Tom narrowed his eyes at the teenager in front of him. “I’ll return it within the time limit. Thank you, Orion.”

Orion nodded. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the library. Tom opened the book and greedily began to read. The book was written in Parseltounge and very old. After reading the first paragraph, a smile tore across his face. He doubted any of the Blacks realized what this book was about. 

Tom would have seven horcruxes. 

He would need to protect seven. They’d have to be in important locations that proved he was the best and better than all. Locations that proved his might over his origins. The objects themselves would be powerful and symbolic. 

Tom grabbed another book off the shelves, tucking it under his arm. 

Sitting down at a table, he placed the small, black book into his pocket and opened up the book on dark potions he had tucked under his arm. He wanted a pain inducing poison that would cause the drinker to relive his or her worst memories. Memories are what really killed people. You could forget things, but if you weren’t magically cleaned of those past memories, they still could cause harm. Fools held on to painful memories, fools allowed these memories to get the best of them. 

A perfect tool to use to protect his soul. 

Everything was going so well. 

He opened the book with an evil smile playing on his thin lips. 

* * *

A few months later, Tom returned to the Restricted Section to get another book on curses for his research. He had found several different poisons to try over the summer. He’d need to find test subjects, but he was sure his so called friends would all trip over themselves to aid him. Walking towards the Restricted Section he heard something that did not belong in the library: humming. 

Narrowing his eyes, he turned on his heel and stalked towards the noise. He froze the moment he saw a dark head bobbing in the stacks. It was that moment the melody she was humming registered. 

It was that damn melody, the one that haunted Atlanta Black all summer. The one that haunted Tom’s dreams. The one he’d heard her singing after their disagreement. The same one Calliope Riddle should not know. 

Tom was unsure how long he stood there while she looked for a book, humming softly. Shaking himself from his shock, he approached her. 

“Calliope.”

“Oh! Tee, I didn’t see you there. Do you know any books I could use for my Transfiguration essay?”

“What is it on?”

“Oh, I’m trying to write an essay on why I couldn’t turn my snail into a tea pot,” Calliope said. “I made a tea cup. Clearly, I missed something.”

Tom quirked an eyebrow. “I see. Well, this book here would help you explain why it turned into a cup rather than a pot.”

He handed the book to her. She smiled her thanks and began to turn away. 

“What was that melody you were humming, Calliope?”

She paused, looking over her shoulder. She had a blank, far away look in her eye. 

“Not sure. It’s been in my head for days. I try not to hum when people are around. I know I’m horrid at singing. My voice makes people run for the hills,” she laughed, sounding a bit uncomfortable. 

Tom blinked, wondering when she had come to that conclusion.

“I didn’t realize I was humming out loud. I’ll be more careful. Wouldn’t want to be kicked out of the library,” she said, turning away. 

Over the next few weeks, Tom watched Calliope like a hawk. He drew to one conclusion: Atlanta Black was seeping back into his sister. Atlanta’s mannerisms were returning, her way of speaking, and that damn song. 

Right before Easter break, Tom snuck into the first year girl’s dormitory and dove into Calliope’s mind. He found Atlanta Black, hidden away in the depths of her mind. 

Tom left her mind and re-casted the spell he used to turn Atlanta Black into a blank slate, only he wiped out the bits of Atlanta Black that had seeped into Calliope’s mind. The power wound through her mind, slowly eradicating all remains of Atlanta Black. Tom watched through his magical sight as all traces of Atlanta Black (light shades of grey) retreated from Calliope’s mind, leaving behind the darker grey and black that made up Calliope’s magic. 

The next morning, Calliope stared at Tom as if she didn’t know him for a very long time before turning back to her first year friends. 


End file.
